Like an ally
by Laradith
Summary: Sharon knew she'd be taking a risk with the C.I.A. when she decided to help Captain America. How drastically would her life change after that, though? Well... She had no clue. Set after Civil War - MOVIE cannon.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey, folks! This is my first MCU fanfiction. I've liked Sharon Carter since The Winter Soldier, and well, it seemed reasonable to write a story about her – and Steve, eventually, of course – after the events in Civil War because there was no closure. We don't know what happened to her after that, so this fic is basically about this. Of course, it's also a Captain America story, and it may turn into an Avengers story later on._

 _Who knows? :D_

 _Disclaimer: The content of this story is not my propriety. Everything belongs to fabulous Marvel Studios and Disney._

 *********ll**********ll***********ll**********

 **Chapter One**

Sharon knew she was screwed.

It started with a brief chill down her spine as she worked through the food she had bought at the 24-hour market down the street. Just a feeling of _wrongness_ , a certainty that something was definitely not right. Shaking it off as paranoia, she continued to do her chores.

A week had passed since her meeting with Steve Rogers and his team. _I can't believe I've been on the run for a week_ , she thought. Sharon never thought she'd reach the point where running away from the CIA – or any intelligence agency, for that matter – would be necessary. Sure, when S.H.I.E.L.D fell, she was aware that maybe she would have to fight her way through Hydra to be free from all that corruption, and it's not like she didn't know what it felt like to pretend being someone else. But _still_. The danger was real, this time.

When she put the food away and started dinner, though, she felt it again. Recording her aunt's words from one of their last conversations – when Peggy's words had already started to sound like a goodbye – she decided checking things out wouldn't hurt. _"Always trust your gut"_ , the words came back to her. _"No rational advice from any agency will be more important than that, in this line of duty."_ So, Sharon got her gun, her gadgets, and approached the window of her living room.

Renting a cheap, run-down apartment for herself in the middle of Asheville, North Carolina, which was crowded with tourists that did the same thing hadn't been difficult at all. Working in the too-small living room while keeping herself away from the windows? _That_ 'd been difficult. Now, though, she could probably run back and forth in the entire place blindfolded and not touch a thing. Peeling back her curtains carefully, she assessed the flow of people outside. It was barely 6pm but she expected a decent amount of people strolling through her charming street. She was surprised to see it empty.

Sharon would've slapped herself if she could. _Sloppy,_ she thought, _not checking the street every hour._ It was too late, now, though. Working for the CIA as a field agent for months had taught her many things – mainly, their procedure to invade and extract. Considering the whereabouts were already empty of civilians, she could only guess her own neighbors had been CIA agents for some time now – they would have taken the time to rent the entire building to capture her, if they thought she had information on Captain America.

There was only one option for her: hope they had underestimated her abilities and try to fight her way out of this. Sharon chose to go on the offensive, since they could easily overpower her if they managed to corner her somewhere in the apartment – and that really wasn't a hard thing to achieve. Positioning herself beside the closed door of the kitchen, so they would have to walk past her to get out of the hallway, she crouched down and waited.

And waited.

Fifteen minutes passed before she heard the soft sound of footsteps. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and took a deep breath.

She heard a loud _bang_ , and watched as her door was torn clear from its hinges.

She didn't wait for them to react.

Counting five soldiers, she swept the first one off his feet and, still on the ground, punched the second one on the knee so hard she heard it crunch. The soldier fell, screaming, and she knocked both of them out with an elbow on the face before placing herself behind their bodies to use them as a shield. She felt the bullets hit their bulletproof vests, glad they hadn't hit her anywhere. Even though she was wearing one as well, taking a bullet still hurt like a bitch.

 _Two down, three to go_ , she thought. Sharon dropped the fallen agent and spun on her heels as she was standing up, bringing up her right leg with full force as to land a kick on the third soldier's face. Her aim was true, and he was down in seconds. Before he hit the ground she had her gun out. The bullet hit the fourth soldier's hand, and a wild shot went out – fortunately, nowhere near Sharon or the other agents. A quick punch to the face took care of him, and then there was only Sharon standing in her doorstep, panting, looking at the fifth soldier.

She was taken back by the slender form of the agent, which resembled a woman her size. Her doubts were confirmed when the soldier – _she_ – took her helmet out and threw it away. Red hair, black eyes, strong chin, and a look that could kill from miles. Her beauty came from the way she held herself ready for battle, and the gleam in her eye as she assessed Sharon, who had singlehandedly defeated 4 trained C.I.A agents in less than a minute.

"You are a lot tougher than you look, Agent Carter" – she said.

Sharon got a strand of hair out of her face. "Let's see if the same applies to you, shall we?" She said.

As soon as they started to fight, Sharon decided it _definitely_ applied to her. The woman's fighting style was a mix of agile strikes, brute force and intricate footwork, which made it almost impossible for Sharon to go on the offensive, as she would have liked. Their dance was too fast for the civil eye to follow, and it consisted of Sharon dodging as many punches and kicks as she could while maintaining a decent defensive position. She felt like she was on a hand-to-hand combat against Black Widow, a situation best left to the imagination, considering it would take seconds for Natasha to kick her ass.

 _It won't take much longer than that for_ this _woman to kick my ass_ , Sharon thought. Already, she started to feel out of breath. Her movements were getting slower and more punches were getting through her defense. Sharon tried to summon up her training back at S.H.I.E.L.D, something that helped her focus when she was losing a fight. Her endless practice sessions with her friends and combat teachers, the feel of freedom as she somersaulted through the air. This helped her, somehow. It made her analyze the fight better.

Sharon noticed the woman, whoever she was, had a weak left hook. To balance that, she immediately followed it with a right uppercut, drawing the attention of her opponent to her latter swing, rather than the first one. That gave Sharon a one-second window to make her move, as the agent tried to grab Sharon and take the fight to the ground. Sharon sidestepped and waited for her left hook. When she did it, Sharon blocked both the left hook and the right uppercut, following it up with a straight punch and a right hook. The swings hit the agent with such brutality that she was forced to back away from the fight.

Finally, Sharon saw an opportunity to win. Using a move from C.I.A's 2-month-training for agents with advanced knowledge in the field, she braced a foot on her windowsill and jumped high enough to aim an overhand right on the woman's face. As she staggered back from the shock of impact, Sharon made a sharp turn and swept her right off her feet, bringing her fist down as soon as she hit the ground. The redhead was out cold.

Painting, Sharon leaned on the closest thing she could find – the kitchen counter. She closed her eyes for brief moments before focusing on the next plan of action. Now that she'd been discovered and nearly brought in, it would be necessary to either seek outside help or go even deeper in disguise. The first option sounded easier than the second, considering the agency would be on high alert now that they knew of her whereabouts. It would, however, put innocent people at risk, a consequence that wasn't worth the risk.

Ironically, she didn't need to make that choice. Before she could get the few things she brought along with her and get the hell out of her apartment, Sharon heard two distinct sounds: her living room window shattering, and her gasp of pain as she felt a brief tingling in the back of her neck. Confused, she reached back and found a dart near her nape. Her vision blurred, and her coherent thoughts seemed to escape her altogether.

As the drugs settled into her system and made her lose consciousness, Sharon remembered that this was a standard SHIELD and CIA protocol, in case the field agents didn't succeed in bringing the suspect in peacefully. Strangely, though, she couldn't recall what SHIELD's logo was. The only shield she _could_ remember as darkness overtook her was a blue and red one, with the United States flag.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey, guys, what's up?_

 _I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who's followed this story, added it on their 'favorites' list and reviewed it. Suffice it to say, you're great!_

 _Enjoy the next chapter!_

 _Disclaimer: The characters, settings, and everything else, are not my propriety. It all belongs to fabulous Marvel Studios and Disney._

* * *

 **Chapter two**

"It's your choice whether you want this to go the easy way, or the hard way."

Sharon blinked twice before raising her eyes. In the couple of hours after she was brought in by the CIA to one of the interrogation rooms they had in their North Carolina facility, she had zoned out spectacularly. Despite the fine layer of cold sweat that had broken out as soon as she woke up, her mind was clear. She knew exactly what was going to happen and what she was going to do.

It was her ex commander, Everett Ross, who had spoken. He was dressed exactly like the last time she'd seen him. Grey suit, hair combed neatly to the side, and a dark blue tie. "So you're the good cop." Sharon said. "Who's the bad one?"

"You don't want to meet him. And I hope you won't, despite our significant efforts to find you," Ross murmured. He took a chair in front of her and sat down, opening a file that contained her personal information as well as her military career. "Sharon Carter, aged twenty-six. An impressive background as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, but I already knew that," he raised an eyebrow and turned the page. Sharon stared. It was a picture of her talking to Steve after Peggy's funeral. "What I didn't know was that you had such a close relationship with Steve Rogers. I don't suppose that's also part of the inheritance you got from Margaret Carter, is it?"

"Not really," Sharon answered. "I grew up hearing stories of Captain America, but that's it. My friendship with Steve is my own. Not that it's any of your business."

Everett leaned back in his chair. "And still, you dishonor your family name by aiding known fugitives, including a Hydra agent, the organization your aunt has dedicated her life to destroy. Why is that, agent Carter?"

Sharon ignored his direct question, "I always try to stay clear of my family's legacy. I want to walk my own path. There's one thing, though, that I got from her with pride." She learned forward a bit, just to make her point. "And that's loyalty. I know how this works, agent Everett. If you think you can make me feel ashamed of my protecting Steve Rogers and his associates, you're wrong. If there's someone in this room that should feel ashamed, that's you. You're the one who's trying to arrest a man whose only crime was helping his best friend. A friend that, if I remember correctly, was brainwashed for years by Hydra."

"Barnes isn't what this little chat is about. You are. You stormed in, stole the gadgets of Captain America's patriotic gang and quite possibly started a war. Alone. Are you aware of what you might have caused?"

Sharon hadn't actually taken the time to reflect on what she'd done, but now… well, she _could_ have started a war. Truth was, the Sokovia accords had done that way before her when it tried to turn superheroes into puppets for the government to mess with. When she actually sat down with Steve after Peggy's funeral and talked about it, he was sure this could be the beginning of the end for the superheroes. Accepting limitations from the UN was accepting the corruption that followed it. And Sharon was positive she would do everything possible to help Steve with his cause, regardless of the attraction she felt for him.

And so Sharon didn't answer Everett's accusation because frankly, there wasn't a way for her to bury herself deeper than what she'd already done, so what was the point?

"We need you to tell us everything you know about the Captain's plans and whereabouts. And we want you to cooperate. You've worked with us brilliantly before this mess. It's safe to assume you're fired," he stated, "but there's no need for our relationship to go nasty. The sooner you tell us what you know, miss Carter, the sooner we can get this over with."

Sharon wasn't about to spill Cap's secrets to C.I.A, especially after the way they had been treating her. Suffice it to say, the cuffs that bound her wrists to the table she was sitting in front of wasn't comfortable in the least. And she'd be damned if she was going to break Steve's trust after he'd told her his plans.

"Sorry, agent Everett" she said. "I'm not going to betray Captain America."

"This is a matter of world security. You know what this means," Everett said. Sharon noticed he looked sad all of a sudden. "You know what I'll have to do if you don't cooperate."

Sharon knew what would happen.

The world used to look at CIA with trust. People used to think that, despite being controlled by the U.S. government, it was an example of how an Intelligence agency in a democratic country should be conducted. A lot of threats were neutralized thanks to the mutual alliance SHIELD had with CIA. It all changed, though, with the 9/11 attacks. Bush administration waged a war against Terror, which meant the CIA was authorized to activate the _Black Bird Protocol_ when national (and world) security was at stake. In other words, CIA was authorized to torture any suspects of terrorism with valuable information.

Aiding a known fugitive accused of helping a man who'd tortured and killed thousands of people over the last century, and refusing to share information that could potentially end a war that exploded between superheroes and the UN? That (kind of) fit the description.

Sharon knew from the moment she helped the Captain, that CIA would come for her. And she was quite aware that when they did, she'd have to withstand torture.

"I know about Black Bird. It won't change my position." She murmured.

Everett took a deep breath before replying. "It's your funeral."

* * *

"Are you sure this intel came from a good source?"

"I've never given you bad intel, Steve. Being on the run doesn't mean being stupid."

Steve chuckled. "Gotta make sure you're still sharp. If you need anything, you know you can count on me."

Natasha took a few seconds to answer. "I'm lying low for a little while. Got things I need to take care of. I'll be in touch soon enough. And Steve? I'm glad you called that nurse."

"She's not a nurse."

"I know" she murmured, and hung up. Steve took a deep breath. He hadn't imagined Nat would actually betray Tony and help him when things got tough. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't have gotten out of the airport with Bucky, and he wouldn't have gotten all the intel he needed to break his colleagues out. As it was, he owned Nat a lot. He doubted, though, he was going to see her anytime soon. Black Widow had a habit of being on her own from time to time, and he still didn't know eighty percent of what she did during those periods of isolation. He wondered if she somehow still had connections to people in Russia and in the Red Room.

As Hawkeye and Sam released the rest of the prisoners, Steve put his phone away and checked the communications panel at the security office. No contact was made from the outside world, and no apparent alarms had gone off. They still had some time to escape.

"Finally" Wanda murmured, rolling her shoulders and stretching. "It's impossible to move in that thing."

"I guess that's the point", Scott said as Sam released him, at last. "They don't want you running around with all that… thing you got."

"Regardless of what _they_ want, you're not animals," Steve stated, calling everyone to attention before Wanda could stare at Scott any longer. "You shouldn't be locked away like this when everything you've done has been saving people. It's savage, and that's why I'm here. I'm putting you guys away in a safe location, if you want. It's secluded, but there's plenty of room for you to do… well, whatever you want."

A minute passed as all the heroes assessed their options. "If there's any possibility for my family to join me, I'm in", Hawkeye said. "I can't abandon them, especially now."

"Of course," Steve said.

"I think it's safe to say we're all in" Sam started. "I for once don't want anybody shooting at me. Your friendship is not boring at all, Cap."

There was a general consent from the room, and Steve smiled a little bit as he considered Sam's words. How far had everyone gone for him? Clint and Scott had even put their families in danger when they helped him, and there was no saying in how badly things would still go from now on. They were all fugitives, and despite Steve's hope that Tony would eventually see reason, things looked pretty bleak for Cap's team. Black Panther's help had been a pleasant surprise, and it gave everyone room to breathe.

"So, can we leave? I'm done being hunted," Wanda asked.

"Not yet," Steve said. "We still have a stop to make."

* * *

 _Ps: I don't know exactly what CIA does with its prisoners (I don't think anyone knows, really haha) so everything that concerns it is just my imagination, and how I think it would work in the MCU._

 _I'll probably post the next chapter in a couple of days, so no worries. What do you think of it so far? =)_


	3. Chapter 3

_What's up, guys? ^^_

 _Here is the next chapter. This one is a bit graphic regarding violence and such, so if you don't feel comfortable reading it, I'm just giving you a heads up beforehand._

 _Thank you so much for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I'm really happy you're enjoying reading the story as much as I am writing it. On with it, then! Enjoy ;)_

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Back in SHIELD, the agents were trained to endure different kinds of situations: situations where you had no water, no food, no armor, no weapons. Sometimes all of these things were lacking. The most difficult thing Sharon ever had to endure in SHIELD was the torture lessons, though. They were taught how to block what happened to their body, so that they weren't affected by the physical distress. Pain was something every agent in every intelligence agency in the world could block out, due to the extensive training they'd had.

Sharon, however, wasn't sure her training would help her.

When Everett left the room after asking her once more if she'd been inclined to share intel, and agent Gilbert took over interrogation, she knew things would get more complicated. She just had no idea how much.

It started with simple questions. Gilbert would ask her personal information, how close she'd been to Steve (she hadn't told him about the kiss, for obvious reasons), and what she'd done to help him, before moving on to the core of the investigation.

When she refused to answer his whereabouts, though, he slapped her, hard. And when she still didn't speak, he did it again.

And again.

On and on it went, with the same question being asked between the hits, until her face was bloodied and she couldn't feel her lips anymore. She guessed it was split, but there wasn't exactly a mirror around. Then the slaps turned into punches.

"Where is he, Agent Carter?" Gilbert asked. For a man his size – Sharon guessed he wasn't even as tall as herself – he had a mean right hook. "Look at you. Bleeding for someone you don't even know. Steve isn't the y god you and the rest of your family think he is. Just because he has an American flag on his shield doesn't mean he represents this country."

Sharon spit blood and turned to look at him. Her voice sounded funny. "And being a CIA agent doesn't make you any better than Hydra. You're still torturing their own just like they do."

She got a slap for that, but she sure felt better. An American intelligence agency resorting to torture wasn't surprising, but they should be better. SHIELD wasn't stellar, but they were proud to say they didn't torture people. At least not that she knew of.

"I _am_ sorry for doing this," Gilbert walked over to the door and knocked three times "but people could die because of your unwillingness to cooperate". Someone opened it and gave him a suitcase. Sharon had watched enough movies and studied enough about methods of interrogation to know what was inside. Her interrogator opened it in front of her, and there they were: ten sharp long surgical needles, slightly thicker than usual.

What came next was way crueler. Sharon knew they needed the intel she had as soon as possible, considering the short amount of time it took for them to go from normal interrogation to torture. She hadn't exactly expected such a medieval procedure.

"That's archaic, even for the CIA" Sharon commented as Gilbert forcefully opened her hands. There wasn't anywhere to run considering her shackles were buckled in so tight she couldn't lift her wrists from the table. So she could only watch as he inserted the needles beneath her fingernails, and endure the pain as much as she could.

It was like fire was eating away her hands. She could feel everything, from the tip of her fingers to the beginning of her nails, where the needles dug deep under the flesh. Blood ran over the tabletop in her lap, but she couldn't care less. It was taking everything she had to stay quiet.

Sharon would be damned if she was going to crack and say something. _Carters don't quit_ , aunt Peggy used to tell her when she was little. That motto followed her as the years went by, and even though Aunt Peggy got older and lost most of the sparkle in her eyes, she never quit. She had the fierceness and strength of a leader, and the heart of an angel. She really was Sharon's role model.

And Sharon didn't like to disappoint her role models. So she took deep, even breaths and held on. Gilbert left after installing his new gadgets into her, and the minutes went by without a sound from the other side of the door. She was alone in her pain. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew they were watching and waiting for the moment she'd break down. Time was a torture of its own when a person was suffering, and minutes seemed to stretch into hours. After what felt like days to her, Gilbert returned. At this point, Sharon was covered in a layer of cold sweat, and she was trembling from exhaustion.

"Are we more cooperative now?" he asked. "I trust you had plenty of time to think about the consequences of your actions. You still have time to call this off. Tell us what you know, and after the info is verified, you can go home."

"To a prison?" she asked, breathless. "No, thank you."

Gilbert sat down in front of her. "Look, I'm trying to help you, despite everything. We will get the intel we need from you, and we will find the Captain. The amount of discomfort you'll be in while we do that is entirely up to you." He stopped speaking for a moment, and when he resumed his speech, his look seemed to burn right through her. "Why are you still resisting? He's just a man. You don't owe him anything. Rogers doesn't have to know we got the intel from you."

Sharon started to laugh, in spite of her pain. "So you think this is about a high school crush? That I don't want him to stop _liking_ me?" She leaned forward, as she often did, to make her point. "I'm a Carter, so when people come to me with secrets, I tend to keep them. You should do the same. Might even get you a better job."

Gilbert shrugged. "If that's what you think. The next step won't be pretty." He walked over to the door and opened it. As if on cue (which proved they _had_ been listening to the entire exchange, Sharon thought) two soldiers stormed in with some sort of barrel between them.

She rolled her eyes, her stomach almost hurting in anticipation. "Waterboarding? What are you, Al Qaeda?"

"It proved to be especially effective," Gilbert commented. He took a long sheet out of the suitcase, which was kept in a small compartment, and unraveled it.

Despite her bravado, Sharon started to struggle. It was impossible to stand still knowing they would simulate drowning multiple times, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. As a child, she had been afraid of drowning in the sea. This was going to be _so_ much worse. As Gilbert took a stand behind her and wrapped the sheet roughly around her face multiple times, she just had the time to take a breath as deep as she could before the soldiers poured the water from the barrel in her face.

It was both shocking and pleasant, at least in the first few seconds. The water cooled her face, which had been hurt quite a bit from the multiple beatings she had endured. After the initial reaction, though, fear started to set in. She couldn't breathe in the slightest, and after a while, her struggle combined with Gilberto's brute touch made her swallow water.

Sharon guessed dying was a better alternative to what she had to go through after that. It was despairing, not being able to draw breath, and swallowing water as pain and terror flooded her. The worst part was the inability to block out her feelings. Because they were messing with such a vital aspect of her body, she couldn't zone out like she wanted to. Her whole being turned into a huge mess of expectation for the next breath she'd be able to draw. When she thought she wouldn't be able to take it anymore, the soldiers stopped, and she was able to cough and vomit most of the water she had drunk. A few seconds later – and only after Gilbert asked her to share her intel yet _again_ -, they started the torture all over again.

It was during the third round of torture that she heard it. At first, a sound like someone punching a concrete wall. Then, the sound got louder, and she heard her torturers talking amidst her agony. "What the hell is that?" one of the soldiers asked. "It's none of our business. We need to get this over with," Gilbert replied.

He never got to finish it.

As Sharon struggled and tried to understand what was happening, the sheet wrapped on her face suddenly pulled, she heard a scream, and then the pressure on it was gone. Two grunts, and the she felt the barrel being somehow gently lowered by her side. With the water gone, she spit water and was finally – _finally_ – able to breathe, albeit not completely. The amount of water in her lungs _had_ to be problematic, she thought. She couldn't stop coughing and vomiting water.

Someone gently removed the sheet from her face and knelt beside her. "Hey, hey, easy," a voice she already knew all too well murmured. "We're getting you out of here." _Steve?_ she thought. _Impossible. What is he doing here?_ It really wasn't impossible. There he was, as Steve rather than Captain America. Her mind registered how strange it was for him to be here – with Sam and Wanda, even – without his shield. Her conscious mind, however, didn't give a damn about that right now. She had never been so happy to see someone.

Both soldiers and Gilbert were unconscious on the floor, and the barrel of water was untouched in the corner. Probably Wanda's work. Sam was in the next room – she could see him through the highway, now that the door was open.

"Sam, the needles," Steve called, as his friend stood up and joined them in the interrogation room.

"Oh shit," Sam said as he inspected her hands. "How long has these been put in you?"

Sharon tried to remember. "A couple of hours, maybe. I don't remember", she said. Her voice was stiff and hurt from the water she had ingested.

"Can you take them out?" Steve asked, getting closer to Sharon and touching her shoulder.

"I'm not gonna lie," Sam commented, "This is gonna hurt. If Wanda had perfect control of her powers, we could use her to dull your pain, but as it is, she could hurt you more than help you with them. Are you ready?"

Sharon took a deep breath – she seemed to be doing a lot of that lately – and nodded. "Just take them out."

She didn't remember everything that happened after that. She recalled excruciating pain, like her hands were being torn apart, her screaming for some seconds. The pinched look of sympathy on Steve's face, like he was the one in pain, and Wanda leaving the room to check on something. A feeling of lightness as she lost consciousness for a moment, and then a true feeling of lightness when someone – probably Steve, from the easy way she was being carried – scooped her up gently and left the facility. First frigid, then hot air on her face. Someone caressing her cheek and holding her hand like it was a feather.

When she woke up, she felt like crap. Her eyes hurt – everything hurt, actually – and she was in some sort of medical facility. Her bed was big enough for two adults to sleep in, and it was softer than any hospital bed she'd ever been in. "Miss Carter," a voice said. She followed the voice to a young woman who was entering the room through an automatic door. A nurse, to be more precise. "We're glad you're awake."

There were about a million questions Sharon wanted to ask, and her practical side jumped at the opportunity to know the answer to the most important one. "Where the hell am I?"

The young woman smiled. "Well, in Wakanda, of course."

* * *

 _I felt bad about the torture Sharon went through, but it was necessary to the story, unfortunately._ _So, what do you think?_

 _See you next chapter! ^^_


	4. Chapter 4

_What's up, guys?_

 _Thank you so much for the reviews you've written. No words can express how much I loved every single one of them. Especial thanks to Kapriiwhoosh for the kindest words. Don't worry, I got your review, man ;)_

 _Here is chapter four! I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it._

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

There was a loud _bang_ as Wanda was thrown in the mat unceremoniously. She closed her eyes briefly before getting up and turning to look at her opponent. She really needed to rest a bit after this training session.

"Keep your guard up," Steve commented. "You're left side is too open. Easy to take you down."

"Not _that_ easy," Wanda murmured as she adjusted her positioning and locked eyes with him. She went for a punch-kick sequence that would expose his legs and possibly give her room to go on the offensive. She was barely a punch in when he noticed the move and switched tactics. As her kick landed, he took the blow rather than blocking it, and held her leg long enough sweep her clear off her feet. The move ended with Steve pressing his elbow against her neck, in a clear show of victory.

Spreading her arms on the mat, she just stared at the ceiling, not really in the heat of battle. Though there was Steve's face above hers and gray bleak ceiling mats behind him, all she could see was another friend's face. Steve stood up and offered her a hand. "It's good for you to train without your powers, Wanda. You may not always be able to count on them."

"Yeah," she said, brushing dirt off her leggings. "Fighting you is not exactly easy, you know. I'm having a hard time."

Both Steve and Wanda went over to one of the huge windows the practice room exhibited. They just looked outside at the beautiful forest for a while. "Are you?" Steve asked. "I can feel your head's not in the game."

Wanda didn't answer. Ever since Steve had broken his team out of prison, Wanda had been more distant than usual. Despite Steve's efforts to take her in and share the load, she wasn't forthcoming with him anymore, which worried him. When they fought against Ultron and expanded the Avengers' team, he had been one of Wanda's only friends, aside from Vision. They'd talk about pretty much everything she wanted, from her childhood to her powers. Now, though, something had changed.

"We have changed, all of us," Steve said, his words echoing his own thoughts. "we shouldn't push people away because of that. You have real friends here, Wanda."

He couldn't help but think of how ironic that sounded, after everything that happened. Tony would've said the same encouraging words to him a few months back. Now, however, he couldn't even think of the Iron Man as a colleague, much less a _friend_. Especially after hunting Bucky down like an animal and tearing his arm off. Steve had an irrational streak when it came to Bucky.

Wanda apparently felt the same way. "I don't think I can consider anyone a friend for some time. Don't get me wrong," she turned to look at him, "I _am_ grateful to what you've done for me. I would be rotting in the middle of the ocean if it wasn't for you." She took a few moments to continue speaking, and when she did, her voice was lower. "When I was little, Pietro was all I had. We were inseparable. When he died, it was like I was dead as well."

Steve put an arm around her. He knew where she was going. "And Vision was there."

She nodded. "He was… a friend. A good friend. And I thought that after Sokovia, I could count on him. He knew how it felt to be an outsider, and he was kind."

"And then he took Tony's side."

"I wasn't surprised," Wanda continued. "Tony created him. In a way, he's a reflection of what Tony stands for. But as a friend, I expected better. I wanted him on my side."

Steve lowered his gaze. He'd been looking at one of the many waterfalls Wakanda had, this one directly in front of the practice room's huge window. It made a rather impressive view _._ "You felt betrayed, and I understand. But I'm not Tony. And I'm not his creation. I won't turn on you because somebody else told me you might be dangerous, and I will never be afraid of your powers. Whenever you need a friend, I'm here."

Wanda felt extremely grateful, not only because of his basically offering his shoulder for her to cry on, but because of his words. _I'll never be afraid of your powers_. It was nice having someone like Steve to care for her. It reminded her of Pietro, the way he always had her back. "The same applies to you," she murmured with a small smile.

Steve's answering smile was a bit cheeky. "Thanks. Now, let's go back to sparring. There are some things we need to work on."

Wanda nodded and let herself be led by him back to the mat. However, she didn't get in position. "I'm not the only one who's out of the game, am I?" she asked, crossing her arms.

There wasn't much for Steve to do but shrug. His head had _indeed_ been somewhere else.

Two floors up, in the infirmary.

Ever since Sharon was brought in, he had had a hard time focusing on anything else. The image of her chained up in CIA's headquarters wasn't something he'd forget anytime soon, especially due to the fact that it had been his fault. Sure, she'd help him of her own free will, but if he hadn't asked, she wouldn't be forced to steal his gear out of loyalty, and well… she wouldn't be banged up right now. He felt guilty of the whole thing.

"You're thinking about her. The agent," Wanda clarified. "Sharon, isn't it? I saw your face when we got to her."

"Yeah," Steve said. "She was tortured because of me."

His tone must have given something away, because Wanda immediately stepped forward. "Don't, Steve. She was loyal to what you stood for. It wasn't your fault."

"I know," he said. "And it might be the old-fashioned guy in me that sees everything that happens to a girl and connects it to himself, but I can't shake the feeling that I've caused this."

"Well, you did, when you went up against Tony. What everyone else did in your support or his, though, is not your fault. People would take their sides regardless of your actions. The difference is that you've united them."

This time, Steve was the one who turned away. "I'm not worthy of this loyalty, Wanda. I may be a leader, but I can't have people dying because they're following my ideals."

"If there's someone who deserves that kind of loyalty, that's you," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "At least, for now."

He chuckled at her well-intended joke "Thanks. Again. It's just… sometimes-"

The sound of the door opening interrupted whatever he was about to say. It was one of the many employees that worked at the mansion, a black-haired man with a drop tattoo on his cheek. "Excuse me, Captain Rogers," he said with a heavy accent. "I was instructed to let you know when Mrs. Carter wakes up."

"Thanks," Steve called out as the man closed the door once again. When he turned back to Wanda she was already on her way to pack things up. "You wouldn't mind if-"

"Go. Sparring can wait."

Steve nodded and let himself out.

* * *

Sharon lay back on her pillows as the young girl smiled at her shocked expression. "You were brought in by the Captain a couple of days ago. You gave us quite a scare, miss Carter."

"Who's we, exactly?" Sharon didn't want to be disrespectful to the woman, though she _would_ press for details.

"You can call me Eni. I'll be responsible for your comfort as you heal from your injuries. King T'Challa himself asked me to provide for you."

"T'Challa?" she asked. "And what exactly are my injuries?"

Sharon had _some_ idea of the extent of her injuries, but since _everything_ hurt, a third source would be reliable. Unfortunately, she remembered pretty much every detail of her interrogation, much to her dismay. She wished the drugs were stronger for a moment, but immediately dismissed the idea. She would want to face things head-on.

"Well, yes, our King was kind enough to shelter the Captain and his friends. That includes you. As for your injuries," Eni went over to the clipboard attached to Sharon's bed, "Despite feeling a bit light-headed for a few hours, you will be yourself in no time. A few cracked ribs from the physical assault, a sore throat, and a black eye. The most concerning injury is in your hands, actually." Eni looked at her warily. "They will take some weeks to heal appropriately, and you may experience pain regularly, which is why I'm assigning a stronger pain-killer to you. The bandages will be annoying at first."

 _Annoying_ was an understatement. It was like her hands were replaced by marshmallows, even if the bandages _were_ smaller than normal. She couldn't take things with her hands without difficulties, which proved to be awful. Sharon never liked to depend on others. She guessed, though, having Eni around would be handy, since she wouldn't even be able to zip her pants normally. Thinking about it ended up giving her an idea.

"Can you help me get to the shower? I could really use one," Sharon said, smiling briefly at the young woman.

Her reaction was positively funny. "Shower? After waking up from such injuries? I wouldn't recommend it," she said with a breezy voice, though she did, actually, help Sharon out of bed. Her legs felt weaker than expected, and she had to lean on Eni for most of the way. A few steps into the bathroom and she already started to feel better.

The prospect of a shower always lightened her mood.

After putting on some regular, comfortable clothes – which consisted of sweatpants and a tee – she leaned back on her bed and closed her eyes for a little bit. Eni got the tip and left her room, closing the door softly behind her. It was nice, Sharon thought, having some time for herself.

However, it gave her too much time to think.

Memories of what she'd suffered didn't take long to emerge, and when they did, she couldn't shake them off. The feeling of being drowned, beaten and cowardly mutilated didn't give her a lot of peace. Sharon was aware that PTSD was a true issue inside S.H.I.E.L.D. and CIA – they had at least that much in common – and being tortured used to spring that up amongst agents. She felt a spark of rage for her ex-agency, and then let it go. They were just doing their job, albeit poorly.

Which led her thoughts to her current unemployed state. Wakanda wasn't exactly a destination Sharon had in mind when Steve told her he'd get her out of there, but she guessed it would do. She had no idea if she was still being hunted. So, she'd know everything there was to know about Wakanda, an exotic place more than anything, and take her time healing. She figured she'd earned _that_ , at least, for not giving Steve's plans away to the government.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. She opened her eyes to find Steve leaning against the doorway, his eyes soft but questioning. "Hey," he said. "I head you were awake. Mind if I come in?"

"Please." Sharon answered, and sat up from her previous position as he entered her room. His figure seemed too big for the medium-sized hospital room.

Steve perched on the end of her bed. "How are you feeling?"

She shrugged, crossing her arms. "Like I was run over by a helicopter."

Steve nodded. "I'm sorry we didn't get to you sooner. I should've known what CIA would do."

He seemed genuinely upset, so Sharon was fast to reassure him. "I'm just grateful for what you've done for me. Besides, you couldn't have known."

Black Bird protocol wasn't exactly known to the public, and being Captain America hadn't given Steve any further access to CIA's procedures. It'd be ridiculous for her to blame him. Ever since Peggy died, Sharon felt more alone than ever. It was nice knowing that someone cared for her that much. Which was what led her to murmur a quick and low "Thank you."

This time, he looked surprised. "You don't have to thank me, Sharon. Busting you out of prison was my obligation, after how much you've helped me. There's nothing to be thankful for. If anything," he added, and there was a sad glint in his eyes, "I'm the one who should be thanking you. You didn't sell me out."

"I would never betray a friend," she said, smiling softly. "And you don't have to thank me, either. The reason I kept my mouth shut was Peggy. She taught me better. It's nothing to do with you, in particular."

He chuckled at that, and when he looked back at her, she couldn't help but smile a bit more. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said.

"What about your team?" She asked, abruptly changing the subject. Her bones weighed a ton, so she didn't want to maintain a conversation any longer than necessary. Even if the person she was talking to was Steve, who always managed to lift her spirits.

"Bucky, Sam, Wanda, and Scott are here. Hawkeye is on his way with his wife and kids. Natasha is out of the radar for the time being," he explained, and at Sharon's confused look, he went on, "it's a long story. Natasha ended up helping me when we crossed Tony's hairs at the airport."

"And Scott?" she inquired. That gave Steve enough incentive to update her about everything that'd happened since they last saw each other. He told her about Scott and his suit, the other Winter Soldiers he had discovered, his fight with Tony at the airport, and later in Hydra's facility. His voice lowered when he told her about Tony's parents, and Sharon covered his hand with hers, marshmallows and all. His story led to him breaking his team out of prison and encountering shelter in King T'Challa's mansion, an unlike ally. Despite her eyes burning from tiredness, she felt herself waking up with every twist in his tale.

Talking to a hot guy that had kissed her? Nah. Update on a civil war? Oh, yeah. That could definitely wake her up.

She imagined Steve was feeling tremendously sad over Bucky's decision to be put back in the ice. Though she hadn't had a lot of time to discuss this with him, Bucky meant more to him than a mere friend. He was Steve's brother, the most important person in his life. It couldn't be easy to lose someone that relevant to you multiple times. _Add Peggy's recent death, and you have a man with issues,_ Sharon thought when Steve finally stopped speaking, her gaze going out the window.

The sight gave her an idea.

Back when she was in London with her parents, Sharon's favorite activity was going to the park. There was something _peaceful_ about that place, the feeling of nature all around her. It was part of the reason she'd decided her getaway city would be in the middle of nowhere. She liked the absence of noise and movement, as ironic as that might sound, considering she'd been an agent in Washington, DC.

She figured now, when both Steve and herself were down for some reason – Sharon for being, well, tortured, and him for the people he'd lost – a walk in Wakanda's natural habitat could do them some good. They wouldn't be able to walk miles like she enjoyed doing because of her condition, but maybe, just _maybe_ , it would clear his head.

 _And mine_ , she thought.

"So," she said, swinging her feet off the bed and cringing a bit from the pain, "how about a tour around this place?"

* * *

 _So, what did you think of it?_

 _See you next chapter, folks!_


	5. Chapter 5

_What's up, folks? :-)_

 _Here is Chapter Five! This is one of my favorites, because we finally get a glimpse of Wakanda._

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

It took Sharon fifteen minutes to convince Steve – and ten minutes after that to convince Eni - she was feeling well enough to walk around Wakanda. She wasn't, not really, but it was something they both needed. Sharon kept her sweatpants and tee, but put on some shoes on her way out of the medical bay. She shivered just thinking about the animals they'd see out there – not that she had any accurate idea about that. Her knowledge of Wakanda was basically bananas. She knew it was an isolationist nation, and its resource of Vibranium managed to turn the country in a technological paradise, but that was it. Aside from hearing about the king's palace, she'd never actually _been_ in Wakanda.

Which only made Sharon and Steve's tour that much more interesting.

Exiting the medical bay, she noticed there were a lot of people going to and fro the common areas of the floor they were in – probably the thirteenth or fourteenth floor, Sharon noted, from her room's view. Aside from the infirmary, a laboratory was dutifully installed across a fountain that separated the area.

"That's not the only laboratory in this facility, is it?" Sharon asked as they passed by the fountain. There was enough fish in there to feed a small village, and their different colors seemed to mix rapidly as they swam in the small pound.

Steve laughed beside her. "No. That's not even the only infirmary," he replied. "And it's not a facility so much as a palace."

He didn't mention it, but she understood the comparison he'd made. _It was more of an Avengers mansion than the Triskelion_.

"And the king of this palace?" she continued, not showing the surge of nervousness the thought of talking to T'Challa gave her. She'd heard stories of the Black Panther.

"Running a diplomatic meeting in Cairo, I think. He loves Wakanda but doesn't seem to spend much time here."

"Oh," was her only response.

In the elevator, the only sound was background music. Sharon leaned against the glass, enjoying the respite while she could. She was usually a lot more stubborn and hesitant to show any sign of weakness, but now… well, she was damn tired.

She felt the elevator move, and after going down a few floors, the door opened. A curly-haired woman nodded to Steve, and then to her, before entering the elevator. "Captain," she greeted shortly. Despite her petite frame – her head barely reached Steve's shoulder – Sharon noticed the way her eyes quickly assessed the area in front of her, and the way her muscles briefly tensed. It was a habit of hers as well, that she'd acquired during S.H.I.E.L.D's training, which meant this woman was an agent of some sort.

"Nareema," Steve greeted back before taking a step back to give the newcomer more space. That put him and Sharon side by side, and she took the opportunity to study his features discreetly. There was a bruise on his jaw, and his eyes seemed colder than normal – not battle-cold, but not as warm as when they were back in her room. His blonde hair was a bit longer than usual.

Sharon averted her gaze when Steve leaned a bit in her direction. "Why are you staring at me?" he whispered. She had a moment of panic before seeing his eyes. This time, they seemed to smile.

She leaned in his direction as well. "Couldn't help it," she whispered back.

He smiled for real.

* * *

Sharon was surprised to see there weren't many people on the ground floor, differently from the floor they were previously in.

"They are doing some special research near the medical bay. That's why it was so crowded," Steve explained after noticing her puzzled expression. They went through some security detail on the way out, which was expected considering the high-profile look of the Royal Palace of Wakanda. The glass and silver exterior of the building raised _a lot_ of attention, as did the high garden and the surrounding area.

Breathing fresh air for the first time in days, Sharon took a good look around. There was so much _green_ that she couldn't exactly focus on anything for some seconds.

A waterfall so big – actually, not one waterfall, but plenty of them – were majestically located in front of the Palace, so that when she left the building, that's the first thing she saw. Closer to the entrance, there was a royal garden. Sharon wondered why they had such a great garden with all that nature around them. To her far right, she could see a beautiful tropical forest, the trees completely filled with green. The sight was so perfect it left her imagining how a person was able to enter that maze. To her far left, an impressive combination of the previous places: beautiful waterfalls with something that looked like the Amazon rainforest, only much more imposing, and the biggest statue she'd ever seen in her life: A black panther, with its sharp teeth and claws, about to pounce. It was such an exquisite work of art that Sharon felt uncomfortable being directly in front of it. Add the ever-present famous mist of Wakanda, and the beast acquired a much more life-like quality to it.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Steve said, and Sharon could only nod.

"I supposed we're not going outside the Palace grounds," she commented, "though I'd love to go on a hike someday."

Steve slowed his pace to match hers as they made their way to the garden. "Someday," he acquiesced. "When you're not panting after a five-minute walk and your injuries are completely healed. All of them."

To an outsider, Steve's words would look redundant. Sharon understood what he'd said, though.

She lowered her head for a few seconds and allowed her hair to fall over the side of her face. Few people were strolling through the grounds at this time of the day – it was barely midday – so they were practically alone. It gave them much-needed privacy to put their thoughts out in the open.

Steve was talking about her mental injuries, the ones she'd undoubtedly acquired after North Carolina. PTSD, which could include extreme fear of water and/or needles, panic attacks and phantom pains where she'd been repeatedly hurt. She curled her hands automatically. If Steve noticed, he didn't say anything. Thing is, Sharon knew some things about PTSD. Regardless of her training at S.H.I.E.L.D, she had worked at a hospital before as a secretary – for two months, which gave her the opportunity to read some articles written by her superiors. Her old job was part of the reason Fury had assigned her the nurse backstory – she had had enough contact with a hospital environment to know how things worked over there.

After her interrogation at C.I.A, she knew this would come. Steve was the kind of guy who worried way too much about others, and despite the idea of PTSD terrifying her, Sharon knew that was a bridge best left uncrossed until it was necessary. She'd freak out otherwise, which justified her physical reaction at his words.

"I'm fine for now," she said. "I don't want to talk about it. I asked to come out here to clear my head." _And talk about you_ , she thought.

He nodded. "I get it. If you need to talk about it, I want you to know you can always come to me. Or Sam," he added in a hurry, and she smiled at herself. "Sam has a lot of experience with PTSD."

Sharon knew about Sam's support group, where he helped veterans overcome their traumas. She guessed it was a good thing he was there in Wakanda. _How many people still need his help over in DC, though?_ she thought, feeling selfish. They clearly were in more need than her.

"How's Sam? And everyone, really. We haven't seen any of them."

Now that she thought about it, it _was_ strange not seeing anyone around from Steve's team. They had a tendency to keep to themselves but who could stay locked up in his room with a place like this? Sharon wondered how much the battle at the airport and its repercussions had messed up with them.

"Scott and Sam are sparring, and Wanda is resting," he answered, noticeably keeping someone out of the list.

"And Bucky?" she probed carefully. This wasn't something she'd let go.

"He was frozen after receiving treatment in the medical bay. _The other one_ ," he added, but the joke didn't stick. The gleam in his eyes went out for a while. She stopped walking due to her already heavy breathing, and Steve followed suit. "It's just… he wasn't doing all right. Sure, he might have been up and fighting like the rest of us, but I saw it, and I'm sure everyone else did too, that… he wasn't okay. Hydra's messed him up pretty bad."

"And not being in a war was bringing it all up again," she completed, and he looked at her gratefully. She definitely understood why.

"When we were investigating the Winter Soldiers, he was going along with everything. Almost like the Bucky I knew. When we got here, though… maybe it's this place. Nothing was familiar, and he felt lost again."

Sharon hadn't known Bucky – at least, not as _Bucky_ – and she couldn't exactly pinpoint what his issues were. Hearing them second-handedly from his best friend wasn't enough to be helpful, but it was enough to listen and to be a friend to Steve, which was what he needed.

"If I know anything from listening to you, is that you love him," she said. "And you had a very close relationship in the past. If there's a person in this story that'll make him remember who he is, I think that's you."

Steve didn't look convinced. She started walking again, much to her body's opposite will, hoping the movement would put his mind at ease while she talked.

"I believe that whenever he comes out of the ice – and I hope that's soon - he'll be completely lost for a few days, but it's normal. Hell, _I'm_ completely out of my element, and my brain wasn't altered. Maybe having you casually close, just like in the past, will slowly help him. You know, the feeling of family around you and all that."

Sharon didn't know if her advice would be of any help, but well, it was the best she could do. Steve apparently thought otherwise and seemed to take her words seriously. His expression turned thoughtful, which she took as a good sign. It was better than sad or troubled. They walked for almost thirty minutes, and when the sun was high in the sky, more people went for a stroll in the garden. She guessed the tour wasn't as original as she originally thought.

As the time passed, she felt herself growing slower by the minutes, until they were all but slouching on the garden. Her brow was wet with sweat and her breathing was heavier than she'd like, even if she _was_ enjoying herself quite a bit. When her throat and hands started to hurt – her throat from thirst, and her hands from the heat – she politely excused herself from Steve's presence to return to her room.

Or tried to, anyway.

Always the gentleman, he refused to leave her unaccompanied, especially when she mentioned she was hurting. She wondered if his reaction had been caused by worry over her well-being – which was tremendously nice of him – or by his distrust regarding the people that worked and lived at the Palace. She hoped it was the former, not because it would mean he cared – maybe a little- but because she didn't want to be on alert so soon after waking up.

"I don't want you alone when you're still so weak, so you'll just have to get over it," Steve said as he offered his arm to her. She took it gracefully, keeping her marshmallow fingers out of his sight.

 _Enough is enough_ , she thought. There was no need to embarrass herself further than she already had.

* * *

 _Wakanda in my story is a bit of a stretch from the real deal, since I couldn't find detailed information about the Royal Palace. So, this is a mix of both Wakanda from the comics and from the MCU._

 _What did you think of it? \o/_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey, guys! How are you doing? :)_

 _Life's been getting harder lately, which explains why it took me so long to update the story. Not gonna happen, again, though._

 _Enjoy the chapter! \o_

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

Sharon had to stay in the infirmary for six days, which was way more than she'd preferred. Sure, the staff was extremely friendly, and Eni was slowly becoming a trusted friend – even if Steve's words sometimes worried her. She never had any reason to doubt the people that were taking care of her injuries, but then, it wasn't like S.H.I.E.L.D had raised a Hydra flag before they tried to launch the helicarriers. If Steve hadn't intervened, millions of people would be dead. Maybe even her.

Truthful to his word, Steve hadn't left her alone any more than necessary the six days she'd been kept hospitalized. They would walk around the gardens at the palace for a few minutes so she could get some breathing room – the atmosphere of her room was too much of a hospital one for her to be fully comfortable there. The small tours around parts of the Palace she hadn't seen before gave her much needed space. And she couldn't complain about the time she spent with Steve himself.

Though his presence was a constant at the moment, she couldn't imagine for how long that'd hold, and what would happen today when she finally left the infirmary. Would she be asked to leave the Palace now that she wasn't hurt? Sharon didn't think that would be the case, but she started thinking about safe places she could go to if that happened. One could never know what exactly went through T'Challa's mind – he _was_ part of a legacy that went back for hundreds of years, according to the legends she'd heard from Eni – so she'd prepare herself for everything.

At last, Eni arrived with the doctor in charge – Argel, she remembered – to discharge her from the medical bay. He checked her vitals, her injuries, especially in her hands and throat – her face was already healing nicely, which was a good thing considering the amount of time she was spending with Steve. Not exactly a top-notch thing to talk to a guy you were attracted to with a huge purple mess as a face.

"How are you feeling today, Sharon?" doctor Argel asked. She'd asked him to keep their conversation on a first-name basis.

"Better," she said. "Ready to get out of here."

Doctor Argel only smiled before examining her recent exams. He was a tall, blonde man with the biggest nose she'd ever seen. His eyes were always kind when he spoke to her, which gave her the impression she wasn't the first patient he attended that had been tortured.

Sharon didn't know his history, but from what he'd briefly told her during his examinations, he'd been saved by one of T'Challa's personal bodyguards during a raid at his village, in Egypt. He was hit by glass shards when a bomb went off in the market, and it was because of Bewman – the bodyguard – that he got medical attention and was later recruited to work at the Palace. Sharon noticed a lot of people seemed to have come from different parts of Africa and Asia, which made her question exactly how far T'Challa's generosity and hospitality, went.

"You are indeed ready to get out of here," Argel started. "Your throat is almost healed, which means by now your voice must be normal again. The most problematic wound is in your hands, as you know, but in a few days we will remove the bandages altogether."

"Good to know," a voice that wasn't hers said. She was so focused on the doctor she didn't notice Sam, who was leaning on the doorway to her room, a friendly smile on his face.

"Sam," she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I heard you were getting released today. Thought I could take you somewhere cool, for once."

Truth be told, Sharon hadn't seen a lot of Sam Wilson lately. She'd run into him during one of her strolls with Steve, and it was an awkward, kind of embarrassing moment because they didn't really know each other a lot, except from the conversations they ended up having when both hung around Steve. It had been the only thing they had in common, but the next day, when she was out on her daily reconnaissance, she got the chance to see Sam trying new fight moves with his wings from a distance, since she'd been looking at nowhere from a particularly large window in one of the common areas.

He was rather impressive in his suit, but she never had the chance to tell him that.

Sharon frowned, smiling a bit. "That kind of scares me, considering where we are." She knew he wouldn't take her hiking on the Wakanda version of Amazonia. It just wasn't his style.

Sam laughed. "Don't worry, we're not jumping off a cliff or anything. Yet," he pointed, and she raised an eyebrow in a mocking gesture. "You just don't wanna miss the sparring session upstairs."

It was enough for her to get herself out of bed, with strict instructions from her doctor, and take a quick shower. After getting decently dressed for the first time in days – she had been _so_ tired of sweatpants – Sharon followed Sam to the elevator and down a few floors, to the first sparring room. On the way there, she noticed there were less people around her medical bay, which she guessed was an indication that whatever research they had been doing had been put on hold – or finished for good.

The moment they left the elevator and entered the sparring floor – one of two, Sam explained – she immediately noticed the change. Her infirmary had been an overabundance of _white_. The floors, the sheets, even the doors were completely white, which made the place look _sterilized_ all the time. The sparring room's colors, on the other hand, were silver and red. There were black mats throughout the whole floor, forming a well-defined space to fight, and around the ring, she could see enough fighting gear to open a gym. Box gloves, punching bags, knee pads, hand wraps – all in red – decorated the walls and created a warm atmosphere. At least, for a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

The main attraction, however, was in the mat.

Not even the beautiful waterfall outside could take Sharon's eyes from what was happening in the center of the room. Crouched down beside the mats, Steve was assessing the on-going sparring session with attentive eyes. What he looking at, exactly, she couldn't pinpoint. At first, she thought Wanda was fighting something invisible, due to her movements when Sharon first got out of the elevator. She seemed to be using her powers in its pure form, and not to control objects and elements from the environment around her. Red streaks of power cut through the air repeatedly, and she dodged punches and kicks with little effort, evident proof that her training with Steve was paying off.

"Who's she fighting?" she whispered to Sam, who was watching the whole exchange as well.

He looked at her for a second. "Ant-Man."

As Wanda created a particularly large ball of power, she was hit on the face and stumbled back a few steps with a grunt. The second hit never came, since she managed to release the glowing orb of telekinesis in her partner's direction before falling. A man seemed to grow out of thin air, and Sharon wanted to slap herself. _Of course_ , she thought. _Scott._ Steve had told her everything he knew about his new team member, and though she hadn't seen him yet, she should've recognized his powers.

"I suppose that's a draw," Scott said, taking out his helmet. "She didn't exactly knock me out or anything. Right, Cap?" He walked over to Wanda and offered a hand. "By the way, terribly sorry for hurting you."

"You didn't hurt me," Wanda said with a heavy accent, brushing off her clothes. "And I was holding back."

Both Wanda and Scott turned to Steve, who had gotten up by now and was on his way to the mat. He offered both of them a bottle of water. "It was a draw." It was all he said, not picking any sides. Sharon thought Wanda had won, but considering Steve's feedback, the goal of the exercise was to analyse their individual weaknesses and strengths, not to compete on who was the best fighter. She admired his skills as both a captain and a trainer yet again.

Sam made a gesture for her to go to the others, and so she went, albeit begrudgingly. For some reason, she felt reluctant to talk to the Avengers. Sure, talking to Steve was normal – now, at least – and she could ignore the fact he was a worldwide known hero while they were at it. Join the gang and the pressure of the situation made her feel like going to a job interview underdressed. Wanda and Scott immediately spotted them, and Scott nodded. Steve turned around and seemed surprised to see Sharon up and about so soon.

"I didn't know you were getting released today," he said. "Sharon, this is Wanda and Scott. Wanda, Scott, this is Sharon, the friend I told you about."

Sharon was glad he hadn't called her _agent_.

She smiled to both of them, but turned to Scott when he stepped forward and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Sharon" he said. "I hope you don't mind the suit. Looks a bit aggressive, but it's actually quite nice."

Scott's personality had been one of the things Steve had liked most about him, so Sharon already knew what to expect. She widened her smile. "Don't worry. As long as it doesn't give me an invisible punch, I'm fine."

"I actually brought Sharon here to spend some quality time with us. Her only besties were the doctors and Steve, which honestly couldn't have been good company." Sam's words were answered by Steve shaking his head and heading over to the benches. He took his cell phone and checked something.

"Breakfast's ready. You wanna join us?" Steve asked, raising his eyes to look at Sharon.

She nodded.

* * *

 _So, what did you guys think?_

 _See ya!_


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